


Unexpected, but not Unwelcomed

by DracoTerrae



Series: 2017 Short Writings [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bachelorette Party, Bellarke, Coffee Shop Meet-Cute, F/M, Med Student Clarke, stripper!bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoTerrae/pseuds/DracoTerrae
Summary: Clarke just met a really cute guy at the local coffee shop.  The last place she expected to see Bellamy again was working at the strip club for Raven's bachelorette party.





	Unexpected, but not Unwelcomed

**Author's Note:**

> This story kind of popped into my head one day, and I put off writing it because I didn't really think it was up my alley. But then it kept bugging me because it really wanted to be written. So, this is my first attempt at smut, ever; I usually just kind of vaguely reference it and do a scene change. So, please bear with me.

Clarke lived on coffee.  The smell, the taste, even the sound of it brewing was the only thing that got her up in the morning.  Whoever invented coffee makers on a timer was her personal hero. 

So the morning that she didn’t hear that quiet rumble and drip, and her apartment didn’t fill with the warm, bitter, inviting aroma of ground coffee beans, Clarke was angry to say the least.  There was _no way_ she could be expected to function at her residency.  Don’t get her wrong, she loved it, she was 100% sure she wanted to be a pediatrician.  She just didn’t think she could successfully get through the day without at least 16 ounces of coffee flowing through her system.

After prodding the machine and praying to the coffee gods yielded her no results, she got on Google to search for a coffee shop that would be on her way to work.  And if she left right now, she would be able to sit and cuddle her coffee for a little bit before taking a to-go cup into the hospital.  Coffee cuddling is the only way to get through the morning.

She arrived at the shop to find it bustling and made a beeline for the register, before waiting her two minutes for them to hand her a steaming mug of coffee.  She spotted a couple getting up from their table and quickly snatched up one of the seats and settled in, wrapping her hands around the mug, and taking a big sniff of the homey scent.  After taking her first sip, she heaved a sigh of relief and gently held the mug up to her cheek, the warmth helping her waken a little more.

“I don’t mean to interrupt the intimate moment your having with your coffee,” a deep voice thrust her from her reverie.  “But, I was wondering if I could sit with you; there aren’t any open tables and I’ve still got reading to get through before class.”

Clarke looked up to meet a pair of eyes as dark as the coffee in her mug.  The dark smudges under them told the story of a late night.  She nodded magnanimously and gestured to the seat across from her.  The man sat and pulled out a book and pen from his messenger bag and began to read, pausing occasionally to take a sip of his coffee.

She returned to her own mug, slowly allowing her brain to wake up.  And the more awake she became, the more she began to notice the overwhelmingly attractive attributes of her table-mate.  The strong jaw that would clench in disagreement with his text, the curl of his hair and how it would continuously fall in his eyes only for him to brush it away absentmindedly.  Then she noticed the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and she was _sold_.  Where was her sketchbook when she needed it?

He glanced up and made eye contact, quirking an eyebrow in askance. “Sorry,” Clarke muttered.  “My brain is slow to wake up.”

His lips quirked in answer, his confidence in his appearance evident.  “I’m sure that’s what it is.” 

Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but closed it in a huff.  “Okay, fine.  Maybe not all of it is due to barely awake brain.”

He closed his book, marking his place with his pen, and stuck out his hand, “Bellamy.”

“Clarke,” she responded, taking his hand and giving it a well-practiced shake.

“So, what brings you to this fine little coffee shop?”

“Coffee maker broke.  And I wouldn’t trust myself at work without my daily caffeine intake.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m in the first year of my pediatrics residency.”

“Beauty and brains,” he complimented smoothly.

Clarke smiled.  “How about you?”

“Well, after half a decade, I’m finally going back to school—hence the book,” he lifted in it gesture.  “And aside from TA-ing, doing odd jobs here and there to negate as much of my student loans as I can.”

“I can respect that.  Gods know how in debt I am from undergrad and then med school.”  She knew she could have gotten out of school debt free with her parents help.  But the stubborn, independent streak her parents had nurtured in her refused the acceptance of their money.  But if she ever got in any real trouble, money or otherwise, they would be there for her in a heartbeat and that was all she really needed.  “Ugh,” she groaned, looking at the time on her phone.  “I really wish my brain had woken up a little sooner, because as much as I’d love to keep chatting, I need to get going.”

Bellamy chuckled.  “Maybe I could give you my phone number and we can rage against the price of the education system some other time?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” she smiled, unlocking her phone and handing it to him.

After typing in his number, he handed it back with a smile.  “It was great meeting you, Clarke.”

“You too, Bellamy,” she responded and quickly ordered her second cup of coffee to go.  A quick look back at Bellamy before she left the shop and she couldn’t be quite so mad about her coffee maker breaking down; in their five minutes of interaction, Clarke felt like she made more of a connection than she had on some of the dates that she’d been on.  She really hoped he’d call.  Maybe they could set something up for Sunday; she’d be on call, but Saturday was a no-go due to Raven’s bachelorette party.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you ready for this?” Raven exclaimed, pulling Clarke into the strip club, the rest of the bridal party trailing behind.

“As ready as a mostly sober person could be, Miss Bride,” Clarke teased.

“I can’t believe they put you on call tomorrow.  Can they seriously do that to residents?  Particularly residents who have requested off the night before?”

“Alas, they can do whatever they want.  Especially, since I got three days off for your actual wedding. Plus, this way I can make sure everyone gets home safely anyway.”

“God, Clarke,” Harper slurred coming up next to them, “Do you ever stop worrying about the rest of us?”

“Don’t think I could if I wanted to,” she smacked a kiss on first Harper’s cheek, and then Raven’s.

The bride wiped the kiss off her cheek and bounced up to the host.  “Raven Reyes, bachelorette party, here and ready to for the show!”

The host gave her a sultry wink.  “Raven Reyes, I’ve got you down for the Royal Package, private room, private show, and open bar.”

“Clarke!”  Raven turned to her with a dropped jaw.  “What did you do?  I told you I didn’t need anything over the top.”

“Take it up with my mom; you’re practically a second daughter to her and when she heard I was in charge of the bachelorette party she gave me a blank check and said, ‘Spare no expense.’” Clarke quoted.  “She was a little miffed when you told her you didn’t need her help with the actual wedding.”

“Well, Mama Griffin, for a night of debauchery and a fantastic bachelorette party, you are a godsend!” Raven shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

The women followed the host past the main room, where they saw groups of screaming women and scantily clad men parading among them.  And through a second door; they quickly found their seats around a small stage.  Waiters in bow ties and g-strings descended from the bar and began taking drink orders.

“Just water for me,” Clarke was in the middle of saying, when Raven laid herself across Clarke’s lap, tapping the waiter’s hand as he turned away.

“This is my maid-of-honor.  She’s a doctor and her work is a party pooper and put her on call tomorrow.  She doesn’t want to be hungover, but I’m going to get her to take at least one drink and one shot.  So tequila shots all around to start,” she gave Clarke a meaningful stare, “And then she’ll have a Moscow Mule.”

“Raven,” Clarke started.  It turned into a staring match.

“Bride,” Raven said, pointing to herself, “trumps maid-of-honor,” she pointed to Clarke.  “Please!  It’s just one.  You won’t even get that drunk.  Maybe just buzzed or tipsy.  And isn’t a hangover the main thing you’re trying to avoid?”

“Yeah, Clarke,” Monroe joined the pestering.

“And it’s not like you won’t be the soberest of us.  You can still take care of us, like your overbearing nature requires,” Harper teased.

Clarke heaved a sigh.  The waiter had stood patiently next to the group.  “Can you make that a whiskey mule?” she relented.

“You’ve got it, maid-of-honor,” the waited told her, writing it down.

Raven smothered Clarke in a hug.  “That’s my girl.  Everyone have your money?” she shouted to the group.

Clarke pulled an absurd wad of cash out of her purse and handed it to Raven.  “Courtesy of my dad.”

“Your parents are awesome!” Raven told her.

“You’re his favorite; you listen to all his lame engineering jokes, and actually understand them.”

“Here,” she handed back some of the cash.  “You need to put some of this to use.”  Clarke rolled her eyes and accepted it from Raven.

When the tequila shots were set in front of the group, the girls eagerly reached for one, Clarke somewhat more reluctantly.  No sooner had they settled back in their seats around the stage than the first dancer made his way on stage.

“How are we doing tonight?” he greeted boisterously.

The bachelorette party screamed in excitement.

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’re ready for tonight.  Maybe I should go tell the rest of the boys backstage that we’ve got a quiet group, tone it down a bit,” he teased, sauntering further onto the stage.

“Nooo!” The group chorused, louder than their previous greeting.

“Oh?  Did you just need a little bit of a warm up then?  Should I just get you started, all hot and bothered, so you’re ready for the rest of the boys?” He started teasing the hem of his shirt up, revealing toned abs.

Everyone screeched their approval and the show began.  The girls voiced their enthusiasm, loud and content, cheering on the men as they stripped and danced.  Clarke was a little more reserved in the shoving of money, but she didn’t withhold any of her approval of the men’s physiques, only getting louder as she felt the tequila and whiskey worked its way through her system.  If only she still had the alcohol tolerance she had when she was in undergrad.

Just one more whiskey mule and she’ll be done, she told herself as she went to the bar in the back of the room.

“And now that the show is properly started,” a voice that triggered an unknown memory in Clarke’s brain said.  “Where’s the bride-to-be?”

Clarke tried to place it as she handed Raven another drink and sat in the seat next to her.  “Right here!” the group screamed pointing to Raven, who had shouted, “Me!” at the same time.

“Well, well, well,” the voice chuckled.  “I hear you have yet to get a lap dance tonight.”

Clarke looked up to find the source of the voice.  “Bellamy?” she whispered in awe, only now recognizing the voice that he deepened slightly for the show.

But Raven heard her and broke out into a gleeful, mischievous smile.  Clarke had told her of her encounter with the beautiful stranger from the coffee shop a few days ago.  And also how she and Bellamy talked on the phone for over an hour when they set up their first date, which was indeed going to be tomorrow.

“Actually,” Raven began, “I promised my fiancé that I would only be looking tonight, but my maid-of-honor more than deserves that lap dance.  What do you say, Clarke?”

The maid-of-honor in question was ready to shoot daggers at her best friend, but was prevented from doing so when Bellamy turned his attention on her.  His eyes widened slightly in recognition, before he immediately settled into a smirk.  “What do you say, Clarke?” he echoed Raven, offering his hand to her as one of his compatriots moved a chair to the center of the stage.

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up.  The girls cat-called and Bellamy held her gaze, smirk permanently in place.  “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?” Clarke muttered as she sat in the chair, all her friends cheering her on.

“Trust me,” Bellamy whispered in her ear from behind, hand grazing over her shoulders.  “You won’t.”

He walked around to the front of the chair and placed his hands on the back, caging her in.  Clarke found herself biting her lower lip as he made eye contact with her.  He leaned in closer and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he rolled his body along the length of hers.  He repeated the move a few more times, making sure to not physically touch her—it only made her want to reach out for him more, but she kept her hands firmly in her lap.

He pulled back and began inching his shirt, revealing toned abs.  Clarke ran her eyes up his form to catch him catching her staring.  Bellamy smirked knowingly; she smiled back and shrugged her shoulders slightly, _hey, checking you out is what I’m_ supposed _to be doing_.  He pulled the shirt completely off and the rest of the girls roared their approval.

He made his way behind her chair, body moving to the beat of the music.  She started to crane her head to see what his was doing, but his quick reprimand came, “Eyes front, Princess.”

Clarke obeyed, but felt a smile creeping up on her lips.  Based on the girls’ reactions he was really putting on a show back there, but not wanting to be scolded twice she kept her eyes forward.  Then a pair of pants flew over her head. 

 _Naked.  He was definitely naked right now.  Or well in probably some minuscule piece of fabric that was supposed to pass for underwear._   Clarke was definitely picturing what he was doing and more than anything she wanted to see for herself.  Luckily she didn’t have to wait or imagine too long because he was in front of her again, crowding her space and grinding against her lap.  And he was indeed in nothing but a small excuse for a scrap of fabric.

The next few minutes were a blur, but she was filing it all away for the spank bank—this deposit would probably last her a lifetime.  The worst, or maybe the best, part was that whenever he could, Bellamy would pull her gaze into his, locking eyes and allowing her to read the smirk there.

When the song ended, she returned to her seat jelly-legged.  Raven waved Bellamy over who had been returning to the back wings of the stage and tossed the whole wad of money she had left at him.  He managed to catch her throw despite it being more than a bit off target.

“Thank you, Bellamy, on three parts,” Raven slurred.  “One, hot damn, boy!  Two, I have never seen Clarke blushing so hard before in my life!” she giggled before becoming so serious someone would doubt the amount of alcohol she had consumed.  “And three, you’re the first guy she’s showed interest in, in way too long. Long story short, you break her heart, I break your face.  And that won’t be so good for business now would it?”  She smiled simperingly. “But, first date in on me,” she gestured to the money.  “Don’t screw it up.”

Bellamy flashed Clarke a smile that sent a fluttering down to her toes.  “I really hope I don’t,” he assured Raven sincerely.

 

...

 

Clarke loved watching the other girls enjoy themselves, lose themselves in the night.  But on-call tomorrow, meant relatively sober tonight.  And true to her word, she stuck to two whiskey mules; she definitely needed that second one to calm herself after that dance with Bellamy. 

Things were starting to wind down for the night and she was at the bar starting to close the tab, when she felt a hand settle on her hip.  “Hey,” Bellamy said quietly, his breath fanning her ear as his chest radiated heat against her back.

“Hey yourself,” she told him, leaning back into his chest.

“Would I totally fuck things up if I asked you to stay a little longer?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she assured him.  “I’ll just have to let Raven know.  But _somehow_ I don’t think she’ll have a problem with it.” 

She felt the rumble of his chest against her back.  “She was pretty intimidating drunk; I don’t think I’d want to get on her bad side when she’s sober.”

“Raven Reyes is definitely a force to be reckoned with; it’s a wonder how Wick got her tied down.”  The bartender handed her the receipt.  Had it been her own money she would have had a heart attack, but as it was her mother’s she happily signed her name.

“Rich princess,” Bellamy commented from over her shoulder, hand still burning on her hip.  “I thought we were supposed to complain about student loans on our date.”

“Rich mother who loves Raven,” Clarke corrected.  “If this night was on _my_ dime, it would probably have been a regular night at The Dropship and I still would have been weeping over my credit card statement.”

 Bellamy chuckled. “So…” he trailed off, his thumb slowly tracing circles under the hem of her shirt.

Clarke shivered at the touch and allowed herself to leave a lingering kiss under his jaw.  “Let me tell Rae, and then we’ll be good to go.”

His second hand mirrored his first, settling on her other hip while he nipped gently at that teasing spot just behind her ear.  “Can’t wait,” he murmured into her skin before releasing her.

She staggered away from his, turning to look at his dark eyes, before tapping Raven’s shoulder.  “Tab’s closed.  You’ve got the run of the limo; it’s paid through the night.”

“Are you leaving us?” Raven waggled her eyebrows.

Clarke shot a look back at Bellamy and bit her lip.  “Maybe…” she confessed.

“’Bout time!”  Raven announced before calling to the rest of her entourage.  “Alright, _chicas_!  _Vamanos_!  Clarke’s ditching us to get laid, so we’ve lost our chaperone.  Time to par-tay!”

Clarke’s cheeks flushed with red; it intensified as the girls let out catcalls and shouts of encouragement.  They each game up to her to give her a hug or a kiss on the cheek.  She caught Harper’s arm.  “You seem the most sober out of the group—not that that’s saying much,” she muttered half to herself.  “Here’s Momma Griffin’s credit card.  Charge anything else you do tonight, but _do not lose it_.  I will come by Raven’s tomorrow to pick it up.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Harper saluted.

“Gods help us all,” she muttered as the group left the strip club.

“They’ll be alright,” Bellamy told her as he snaked an arm around her waist.  She didn’t know if it was a question or a statement.

“They’ll be fine,” she assured them both.  She turned to face him, her chest pressed against his.  “I’m more concerned with how _our_ night is going to finish,” she teased.

“Oh, our night is just beginning,” he leaned in, capturing her lips with his.  She gave in immediately, molding her body to his, tongue seeking entrance.  He granted it with ease.  As first kisses come, it was even more than she had anticipated, hot and heavy and sending a thrill from the tip of her head down to her toes.

He finally broke the kiss but didn’t move too far, resting his forehead against hers.  “As much as I’d like to continue,” he breathed. “And I do plan to continue and so much more,” he kissed her again, full of promise.  “We should probably relocate to a little more private location.”

Clarke bit her lip and looked up to meet his dark gaze.  “Your place or mine?” she breathed. 

“Roommate,” he responded.

Clarke broke away slightly with a laugh.  “Are you saying you have one or asking if I do?”

Bellamy rested his forehead against hers.  “Both?”

“I live with Raven currently and it’s 50/50 whether she’ll come home and cheer us on or if she’ll go over to her fiancé’s; though if she does come home, she’s probably bringing at least half of the bachelorette party with her.”

Bellamy groaned.  “So, you’re going to make me oh-so-casually ask Miller if he’s staying at his boyfriend’s tonight?”

Clarke leaned up and scraped her teeth gently across his jaw.  “Only if you don’t want him to hear me screaming your name tonight.”

“Sold,” Bellamy said quickly, reaching for his phone in his back pocket.  “Call or text?  Calling is quicker, but texting is more casual.”  Clarke hummed and continued tracing his jaw with her lips and teeth.  “Calling, definitely calling.”  Clarke chuckled into his skin.

Bellamy’s hand sought out hers and began leading her toward the employee designated exit.  “Hey Miller.” 

Clarke could ever so slightly hear the responding answer.  “Blake.”

“So, I was just wondering if you were at Monty’s tonight or…” Bellamy released Clarke’s hand to dig out the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car.  She slipped under his arm and snuggled into his body.

“You’re bringing a girl back to the apartment aren’t you?” the voice answered.

“Yeah,” he shot Clarke a look who smiled back encouragingly. 

“Is it the girl you’ve giddy about for the past week?”  Clarke hid her growing grin in Bellamy’s shoulder.

 His cheeks flushed slightly red.  “Yeah, it’s uh, it’s her.”

“Good for you, Blake,” the disembodied voice grumbled.  “I’m already over at Monty.  Don’t fuck on the couch or counters.” And then it hung up.

“So I guess were good to go for my apartment,” Bellamy told her, pulling open the passenger side door of a very practical Ford Fusion.

Clarke leaned against the doorway, and carded her hand through his inky curls.  “Sounds good to me,” she smiled before pulling him in for a deep kiss.

Eventually he pulled away and made his way to the driver’s side.  As they pulled out of the parking lot, he rested his hand on her thigh, making small circles as they talked.  “Sorry, I live a ways away from my work; don’t really want to run into any customers on the day to day.”

“We’re actually driving closer to my apartment, so I don’t really mind.  Which totally makes sense given the café we met at.”

Bellamy joined her quick laughter.  “True.  I live about a twenty-minute walk west of that café.”

“About five to ten minutes east for me.” Her mind automatically doing the math that she could walk to Bellamy’s place in about half an hour.

They chatted amicably for the drive, keeping in contact with small, lingering touches.  As they pulled up to his apartment, he cast a smile at her and she squeezed his hand.

“So,” she started.

“Let me get your door for you,” was his response.

“Such a gentleman,” she smiled and he made his way around the vehicle.  He held out his hand for her and she shook her head slightly.  “You know I’m perfectly capable of getting out of a car myself, right?”

“I know.  But this way I get to show you that chivalry is not entirely dead.”

She threw her head back in laughter and didn’t let go of his hand as he led her to the apartment building and up two flights of stairs (the elevator was broken), before she was being pressed against his door.  She barely managed to pull back.  “This would be a lot better if we were on the other side of the door,” she murmured into his neck as he fumbled with the keys.

“I’m working on it,” he chuckled slightly.  “But someone is being a bit distracting.”

“And whoever could that be?” she teased as she scraped her teeth gently on the underside of his jaw.

“I wonder,” he managed, finally unlocking the door and pulling her inside.  She giggled as she went.  Clarke Griffin was not a giggly girl and yet here she was, giggling.  She pulled him in for another kiss, grabbing at the shirt he had sinfully put on after the show.

He kissed her thoroughly, tongue brushing against hers, hands pulling at her dress.  They separated a moment and Clarke tugged off his shirt before raising her hands up in the air, so aid him in his task.

As soon as the fabric was clear, his mouth descended on hers again, hands seeking her hips before sliding over her ass pulling gently on the back of her thighs.  It didn’t take more than a second for her to get the message and she jumped up to wrap her legs around his hips as he walked them assumingly toward his bedroom.  They only stopped once in the hallway in order for him to reach for the hook of her bra without the fear of dropping her.

“Fuck,” he muttered, lips trailing lower, down her throat, before started to suck a dark mark on the top of her breast.  She let out a quiet whimper of pleasure.  Then the next thing she knew, she was being gently tossed onto a mattress.

She lay there, in nothing but her panties at him staring at her, and smiled happily.  “Fuck,” he said again. 

She laughed. “My thoughts exactly.” She looked him up and down. “Lose the pants,” she requested.  His hands descended to his waist to unbutton and unzip the restriction, soon leaving him in his boxers.  “Those, too,” she demanded.  When he stood bare before her, she crooked her finger, “Come here.” she crooned and he lowered himself to the mattress above her, boxing her in with his hands.  His mouth met hers once again, hot and desperate, one hand palming her breast.

“Clarke,” he murmured against her lips.

“Bellamy,” she responded without thought.

His mouth moved lower, finding her nipple as sucking hard.  Her back arched into it.  The hand that had previously been teasing her other breast, roamed lower and pulled off her panties.  Once they were discarded somewhere over the edge of the mattress, his hand slid up the inside of her hand before gently stroking her folds.

He groaned into her tit, finding her wet and eager.  “All for me?” he asked.

“Like I could think of anything else tonight,” she snarked, grinding into his hand.

He pulled the wetness from her entrance to swirl around her clit, teasing it at the base and leaving her panting.

“Please, Bell,” she choked out.

He switched his administrations to her other breast and rubbed her clit with strong, sure strokes.  “Come for me, Princess.”

She let go and felt her legs tremble and her back arch once more.  He worked her through her climax and she felt her body melt as he kissed his way along her neck, fingers steadily working around her clit and inside her.

She felt him hard and ready against her thigh and brought her hand down to stroke him easily.  He thrust into her hand, unable to show restraint.  “Condom?” she asked as she kissed his temple, the closest thing to her mouth, before coaxing him up to gain access to his neck.

“Nightstand.  Top drawer.  I’ve got it,” he pulled away from her to reach for it.  She gave his dick a strong tug in response to his immediate absence.  His hips jerked into her palm.  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, coming back to kiss her deeply and thoroughly.  “I already know it.”

“Only because you’ll be the same for me,” she smiled, before reaching for the condom.

She flipped them over so she was on top and settled back on her feet before tearing the package open and fitting the tip of the condom lightly between her teeth.  Holding his cock steady she rolled the condom on first with her mouth, then helping it further with her hand while sucking deeply on the tip.

“Fuck, Clarke,” he groaned, looking down at her.

She smiled with her lips around his dick before pulling back.  “ _Someone’s_ got the right idea,” she smirked.  She rose to her knees and aligned herself over his dick before sinking down on it.  They both gave a long groan of pleasure when she had him fully sheathed.

She rolled her hips experimentally, hands steadying themselves on his chest.  He found her hips with his hands immediately to help establish a steady rhythm.  She leaned back, moving her hands behind her as he thrust into her at a new angle, causing her to cry out as he hit _that_ spot repeatedly.  His hips rocketed up, and next thing she knew she was coming for the second time that night.  He rolled them over and pounded into her, working her though it.

Before she had time to fully appreciate it, he had pulled out, flipped her on her stomach and was pulling her ass back up into the air.  In one smooth thrust he was fully inside her again and she swore she was about to come again.  “Fuck,” she moaned.  “More.  Please.  Harder,” she gasped out. And he obliged, his hands likely leaving bruises in their wake as they dug into her hips, pulling her harshly against him as he pounded into her.  With a few more thrusts he was coming hard with a deep groan and slumping against her back.

She let his weight crush her into the bed, relishing in the feel on his complete release.  After a few moments, before breathing became hard, he pushed himself off of her, pulled off the condom, tying it and throwing it in the waste-basket near his desk.  “Thank god; if I didn’t make it, I don’t know if would have had the energy to get up and throw it away properly,” he told her as he settled on his back next to her.

Clarke immediately curled herself into his chest, not caring about the mess between her thighs or the sweat coating both their bodies; she’d worry about that in a few minutes.  His arm wrapped around her and pulled her closer.  Her head rested above his heart and she listened as it slowed to a normal pace while she caught up with her own breath and heart rate.

She placed a kiss above his heart.  “So, that was definitely not how I pictured the night ending,” she admitted.

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.  “It was how I was hoping it would from the moment I saw you tonight,” he confessed.

She hummed.  “Me too…” Then a thought occurred to her, “So…that date tomorrow…”  She hoped this wasn’t the end of what they were; while the sex was off-the-charts fantastic, she still wanted that date with the cute guy she had met at the café.

“Lazy Sunday morning sex, brunch at my favorite diner, and then see where the day takes us?” he asked without hesitation.

“It’s a plan,” she snuggled further into him.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, Kudos and comments are without fail appreciated. Seriously, they make my day.
> 
> Also, I finally broke down and got a [Tumblr](https://dracoterrae9099.tumblr.com/). I really don't know what I'm doing (technologically challenged and socially awkward over here; please don't judge me). But feel free to come chat at me about Bellarke or my stories or basically anything.


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